


Found some meaning that was left behind

by thejunipertree



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Epistolary, Friendship, Gen, Magic, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:51:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21822538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejunipertree/pseuds/thejunipertree
Summary: Tris is away studying at Lightsbridge University when she experiences an earthquake. She knows it's a natural phenomenon but can't help being ill at ease. Her friends find ways to encourage her, despite the distance that separates them.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Found some meaning that was left behind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gostaks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gostaks/gifts).

Winding Circle temple sat high above the capital city of Emelan, overlooking the Pebbled Sea. The high walls encircled the spiritual and magical center of Emelan. While Lightsbridge University was the center of learning, the Dedicates of Winding Circle were masters of crafting magic. Their power was part and parcel of the world around them. Tris was glad to be back, despite the close, dead air of summer. She always felt nervous when it got like this. Of course, she knew there was no risk of earthquakes - there was no way she would ever forget what one of those felt like when it was on the way. In fact, during her university studies, she was able to give everyone a week’s notice before a minor tremor hit the island school. Despite the quake ending up quite minor, it had still bothered her enough to want to write to her siblings in magic. She remembered how awkward it felt, at first, to pick up a pen when she had something to say to Briar or Daja or Sandry. After years of speaking mind-to-mind and living side-by-side, it was incredibly frustrating to be at the mercy of the post. Tris was pretty sure she could throw her self out on the wind and reach them, if she really wanted to, but she’d learned enough from her mistakes to be wary of throwing that kind of power around frivolously. After all, what if she’d emptied her magical reserves on idle chatter just before a real disaster struck? What would she say? That she was scared? She thought of Sandry, who had traveled out to distant Namorn, whose greatest fear was a constant presence after sundown each day. No, she couldn’t waste her strength just because the quake had brought back bad memories. 

Still, who was to say she could do a small amount of magic to make her life easier. After penning the first letter, she pulled out two more sheets of blank parchment and stretched out a hand. Focusing on the water in the ink well she coaxed it out. The ink swirled around her hand and started to move towards her wrist. “Don’t you even think about staining my dress,” Tris muttered and willed the ink towards the parchment. It spread out in a flat, black square, covering her letter. She focused on letting the ink feel its brother blotches on the parchment while still keeping it from sinking in. “Now, you know what to do, she said as she pulled the ink up and split the square in two before guiding it down onto the blank sheets. The ink formed itself into two exact copies of her letter, hovering an imperceptible amount above the parchment itself as she inspected her work. Everything was identical - including the fact that each letter was addressed to “Briar”. Tris glared at the two salutations in turn, watching as the letters reshaped themselves into her two other friends’ names. Finally, everything in place, she slowly lowered her hand, allowing the ink to sink in. She glanced over the letters one more time, smiling to herself. It’s true there was a simple duplication incantation she had learned in her second week at Lightsbridge, but it always felt weird to do schooled magic on anything she shared with their group. It was as if, at university, she had discovered a small corner of her magic that had nothing to do to them. While it was exhilarating to recognize she had that kind of autonomy, the more their connection stretched, the more she missed it. Besides, she knew how much she liked the almost-embrace of the others’ magic that came along with their letters: the playful glint in Briar’s plant ink, the protective air of the linen strands in Sandry’s thick stationary, the steady heat that lingered in Daja’s wax seal. She may have held herself back from projecting her mind out to them, but she couldn’t deny the chance to send a small bit of her magic their way.

It was almost a month later that all of the replies had reached her. Unless it was urgent, Tris always liked to save the letters and read them all together, as if they were all reunited back at the dining room table in Discipline Cottage, joking and teasing while Lark and Rosethorn watched on. 

_I get why you’d be scared of a big shake out in Lightsbridge_, Briar had written, _That big stone tower? It’s just gonna shake right apart if the magic on it fails. I know, I know, them scholar mages are just as good as us Living Circle folk, but I know I wouldn’t trust it. If only it was wood - I could come by and give that big tower a talk. Teach it to bend in the wind like a tree, follow the waves of the quake instead of trying to hold still. I asked Evvy about it, but she said convincing a stone to sway was just not in it’s nature - the best you’d get would be some of the old stones - the ones born in fire, deep in the earth - going all liquid on you, and that’s even worse!_ Tris shuddered, remembering her childhood experiment trying to stop the tides and the squishy, flowing rock she’d created, nearly at the cost of her life. She definitely didn’t want a repeat of that experience.

Putting Briar aside for the moment, Tris picked up Sandry’s letter, taking a moment to appreciate the weight of the parchment and the feel of fine cloth beneath her fingers. It may have been decades since she was just a merchant girl, but she could still appreciate the quality on display, probably more than Sandry herself did. Sandry’s letter had also come with a small embroidery sampler, as they often did. Sandry had been traveling a lot recently and clearly chose to pass her time in the art of needlework. Tris stared down at the little square, bordered in red stitching. Sandry’s messages were often conveyed as clearly in her stitching as in her words. At the center was the tower of Lightsbridge, a surprisingly accurate rendering, considering Sandry had never been. She must have tracked down a book or some etchings of the university. It was the exact kind of thing Sandry would do - as if the knowledge would keep them from growing too far apart. As Tris ran her fingers over the satiny gray thread of the tower, she realized it was the exact same shade of her eyes. She also felt the wards of protection Sandry had worked into the fabric itself. In the right corner hung what Tris initially thought was the moon, a yellow circle, but upon inspection, she realized it had four raised knots - a representation of their circle. Curiously Tris touched the knots, but felt only trace elements of anyone but Sandry. Still, a wave of comfort washed over her as she traced her fingers over the thread. Sandry couldn’t be there in person but she had imbued each thread and each stitch with her magic and her friendship. 

Overwhelmed, Tris placed Sandry’s embroidery next to Briar’s letter and turned to Daja, who was certain to be less embarrassingly (touchingly) concerned about her. Daja’s thoughts, it turned out, had run along similar lines to Briar’s. _If you want I could talk to the ore in your big stone tower, Merchant Girl. I don’t know if it can convince the stone to budge, but I can at least give it a glimpse of what to be ready for, remind it what a big quake feels like and how much it likes being part of a huge tower, reaching up into the clouds, instead of hiding deep under the earth. The ore is kind of like us, you know? It’s most comfortable hidden away from the rest of the world but ore loves to become something more than it is; can’t stand to just be empty potential. Imagine being a little fleck of iron ore stuck in a rock that ends up hundreds of feet in the air on the top of your Lightsbridge tower? I guarantee you it’s not going to want to come back down. _

Tris sat up late into the night, reading and re-reading the words of her far-off friends, feeling the lingering traces their magic left on the ink and parchment. Finally, she blew out her candle and tucked the letters under her pillow. She drifted off to sleep remembering the hot summer days of their childhood at Discipline Cottage spent dozing on the roof or walking the walls of Winding Circle, rather than the dangers that were to come.


End file.
